Wednesday, August 3, 2011

A Little Fucking Revolution (Title Stolen from John Gillooly)

We speak of change, but what do we know
on the subject? Weight, sure. The style's
grown and kindness was left behind
some time ago. I headed south

with every intention of hiding out

down there. Blood's too thick
for such heat, skin's too thin
for my home. A self-made
family is a lucky one --

we all wish we could bed each other.

And where's the sin in that?
With a new hat, I look five
years younger -- subterfuge is
what the present is not.

We should all change our dress

every now and again. To keep
the new Us, even if the fanboys
disagree. If DC can do it, why can't we?
Trade capes for blue jeans,

sleek unitards for kneepads. A little

less compromise would be a cold
drink, refreshing like a first kiss
under a rain-soaked picnic table.
We have ideas of how we should be,

so, when were we bought? Try

to remember the time less tangible.
Things were things and we did
what we wanted. Betrayal is an ugly
act, especially when self-inflicted.

We need to get out of this town,

with or without the spectres
we love. It's a crippling thought
when we realize: they don't need us
as much as we think

we need them.

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